


Towels, showers and flowing locks

by kiwialicat



Series: Start as you mean to go on [2]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: M/M, Midge - Freeform, NZ Rugby, Super Rugby, crusaders - Freeform, flatmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 04:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15283533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwialicat/pseuds/kiwialicat
Summary: “We could…” Mitchell looks around the steadily clearing bathroom… “it’d be okay if you shared my bed.”“And?”  And.  Yeah, ‘And’ is a really good question.  There’s what Mitchell thinks about wanting and then there’s what he can get to come out of his mouth.It takes a trip to Perth for the boys to sort a few things out.





	Towels, showers and flowing locks

**Author's Note:**

> These boys are back. Based after the Crusader's recent mid-season trip to Perth to play the Western force, which they won 45-17. Comments are wonderful :) If you read and write rugby fics - I'd love to chat - please say hi.

  
“That’s it, we’re moving to Perth.”

Mitchell announces his return to his roommate with the words.  He stays with his back pushed up against the door he’s just come through, his eyes the only thing moving about the room as the rest of his body remains still.

“We?”

Mitchell nods, pushing himself off the door slowly and wandering towards the living area.

“You don’t know how to adult properly without me.”

“That right?”  George asks, not looking up but continuing to study his solo game of cards intently.

“How come you’re still up?  Mitchell asks as he sits down gently in the sofa across from the coffee table George has covered with playing cards. “It’s late.”

Mitchell watches George toss a couple more cards onto the table before he finally forces his eyes up, a half-smile on his lips.

“Yeah, pretty late to be out wandering around in a foreign city too.”  He holds Mitchell’s stare until Mitchell can’t take it any longer and adds on, “where have you been?”

Mitchell resists the urge to say something about George not being his mother, even though that might be easier to navigate around than the real reason, and scrubs at his stubble-rough jaw.

George knows.  Mitchell can read it in his demeanour and tone, let alone on his face when he finally makes himself meet his stare.  It’s been two months since that first night they slept in the same bed together.  Mitchell can still remember, as if it was only last night, the intent he had to have a ‘conversation’ with George when they both woke up the next morning.  Somehow the blanket of morning malaise and the distance from the night before had thrown all those plans firmly out the window.  Mitchell had found George standing at the kitchen counter, stirring sugar into his milky coffee, and staring at nothing in particular.  It looked like he was thinking about things, perhaps this was the time when ‘the talk’ would actually take place, but then Drumms had wandered in, off on some rant about George leaving his wet towels on the bathroom floor, and things had fallen easily into standard flat-life.  ‘The talk’ was tucked away for another day.

Mitchell had figured that one of them would bring it up.  He’d thought about how he’d do it, at least a dozen times, but then somehow one of them always managed to sabotage the perfect moment.

Mitchell even woke three weeks after that night, to find George crawling under this duvet and pressing into his side.  He had blinked at him in the gloom, but said nothing.  He let George wrap around him and had lain there waiting for his breathing to even out as George drifted off.  Mitchell didn’t get much sleep that night, or four nights later when it happened again.  The longer you leave something, the harder it is to do.  When Mitchell found out that he had been roomed with George on their whistle-stop trip to Perth, he figured that if something wasn’t said then, then it might never be.

“I was just…” Mitchell screws up his eyes a little, seemingly trying to find a good description, “walking around.”

“Aha. You haven’t even showered yet.”

Mitchell looks down at his training kit, hastily thrown on post-game. “Yeah well, you’re used to me stinking up the place.  Besides, how do you know?”

George shrugs a little, “just do.”  He fingers the cards in his hands. “I’m aware of you.”  George starts tossing cards haphazardly onto the table.

Mitchell smiles, “aware, huh?”

“Yup.” 

“Like…you watch me all the time or something.”  His words are slightly teasing, but there’s a direction this is heading in, and Mitchell wants George to pick up the thread and help him steer the ship.

“Well…” George shrugs again, “you’re only little.  Gotta keep an eye out for you.”

“Huh.”  Mitchell slumps back in his seat, “is that why you keep getting into my bed and falling asleep with your face pressed into my neck.  Just so you can keep an eye out for me.”

All of George’s cards are on the table now, if only in a literal sense and he looks at Mitchell intently, the conversation topic now firmly headed where it needs to go.

“Do you want me to stop?”

And Mitchell’s really not sure about that one.  On one hand, he doesn’t want it to keep happening and be ignored as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on, but on the other hand, well, he likes it.  It’s this thought that makes him flinch a little, and before he can properly consider what it means, he’s shaking his head.

George is smiling at him now, “you’d better have a shower if you think I’m getting into bed with you later.”

“Why?”

“Ah, well, because you fucking stink, I – ”

“No.  Why do you get into bed with me?”

George sighs, pushing a hand through his unruly hair and letting his right knee bob up and down while he doesn’t answer.

“Okay, let’s start with why you don’t want to talk about this.”

George’s knee stills.

“Seriously, you kissed me.  Twice.  Remember that?” Mitchell’s sounding a little frustrated now as he waits for any response from this roommate.

Mitchell watches George’s head come up slowly, “that’s not something I’m going to forget.”

“So…” Mitchell frowns, “tell me what’s going on then.  I mean, do you want to do it again, or is that just me?”

George’s eyes widen as Mitchell lets out the unplanned admission.

“What…you…”  George’s words falls off as Mitchell nods, making things easier for him.

“Yeah alright, I said it.  Fuck, glad one of us did.”  With that, he gets up, “guess the ball’s in your court, right?”  He looks at George’s slightly stunned expression.  “I’m gonna shower.  Why don’t you think about what you want and when I don’t stink, you can let me know once and for all.”

Mitchell doesn’t look back as he purposely strides into the bathroom and turns the water on as hot as he can take.  His head is under the spray before he realises that grabbing a change of clothes might have been a good move in light of current circumstances.  He’d spent an hour and a half wandering the streets of Perth aimlessly, forming and discarding words in his mind.  Of course, nothing he’d come up with had actually nicely slotted into the real life situation he’d been presented with when he arrived back in their shared room.

George did something to him, when he was physically present in the room, he just hadn’t really been able to figure out what yet. It’s ten minutes or maybe even longer before he hears the door open and he’s peering into the steamy room at the figure in the mist.

“You planning on coming out of there some time soon?”

“What the - ”  Mitchell shuts off the water and stares at George who seems completely unconcerned by the view he’s receiving of Mitchell’s naked body.

George has picked up a towel and is holding it in the general direction of the shower door, “I’ve seen you naked before, remember?  Pretty sure I noticed you’ve got a cock.”

Mitchell snakes his hand out and grabs at the towel, slipping it around his waist and fastening it carefully.

He slides back the shower door and stands there for a minute. “So?”

George suddenly looks a little sheepish, “So I know what I want.”

Mitchell steps out of the shower. “And?”

“Really?” George sounds and looks a little pained, “you’re gonna make me say it?”

“Yeah well, normally you won’t shut up.  What makes this so hard?”

“Do you…like me?”

Mitchell can’t stop the amused snort.  “Are we in high school now?”

“Do you?”

Mitchell feels bad, all of a sudden, for making fun of George.  The look on his face is one of those rare ones he knows means something important is being asked for.  Somewhere along the way, he got to know George’s facial expressions.  Maybe he’s been aware of George too.

Mitchell feels himself nodding, and then he waits.  He wishes he knew how this went.  He’s scared as hell about this being thrown back in his face, and he’s pretty confident George feels the same.

“What are we supposed to do about this?”  George says what Mitchell’s been thinking.  It doesn’t really make the answer any clearer though.

“We could…” Mitchell looks around the steadily clearing bathroom… “it’d be okay if you shared my bed.”

“And?”  And.  Yeah, ‘And’ is a really good question.  There’s what Mitchell thinks about wanting and then there’s what he can get to come out of his mouth.

Mitchell’s eyes are off on some road trip around the bathroom again when it happens.  Fingers slide easily across his still damp skin and his already warm body ramps up a few degrees when George is suddenly an inch away, and looking at Mitchell with firm intent.

“And…things.”  Mitchell’s pretty sure ‘things’ about covers it, and that George gets that when he goes in for kiss number three.

Mitchell’s a little more ready this time around, and he feels two month’s worth of anticipation take over when his arms go around George and he pushes his wet chest against George’s dry one.

He’s had a silly fantasy, and oh God, he hates calling it that, but it is what it is, and at last he gets to live it out by pushing a hand into the back of George’s ridiculous long hair as the gap is closed.

“I like things,” is mumbled against Mitchell’s mouth and then there are no more words while George does things with this tongue that surprise and impress Mitchell in ways he never expected.

Mitchell remembers the first two kisses, of course, but then there was also the overwhelming sense of surprise and alarm that went along with them that didn’t really let him appreciate them for what they were.  Add to that, George is clearly feeling a little more confident about things now, and seems to be fairly happy taking charge of proceedings.  Mitchell opens up easily and George is there with this tongue, rubbing and licking and just generally marking out his territory.  It’s not exactly what Mitchell would call sweet or gentle and he’s pretty sure he’ll have what he assumes will be stubble rash in the morning, but damn if it isn’t about a million times better than what he’d been imagining.

Mitchell feels a hand across his bare lower back and he presses his body forward, curling his fingers in George’s hair and enjoying the way the strands slide across his skin.

George breaks them apart long enough to smile the devilish smile that Mitchell can now freely admit makes his stomach swim a little, before he goes in for round two.  Shorter, but slightly more desperate, and leaving both men short of air, as eventually George rests his forehead to Mitchell’s.

“So…about my cock.”  Mitchell’s expression is serious.

George continues sucking in breaths for a moment, for once lost for a witty response.

“Is it going to be a problem?”

“Um…” and George does something that Mitchell hadn’t been anticipating, but isn’t entirely unhappy about.  He makes a small space between them and reaches down to push his fingers over the front of Mitchell’s towel, fixing Mitchell with an even more mischievous expression as he finds what he’s aiming for. “It feels like it’s working just fine.” And to prove that point he lets this fingers wrap around a handful of towel containing Mitchell’s already interested cock, earning him a squeak of surprise.

“Jesus…that…” and not being able to get the words out spurs George on as he slowly rubs at Mitchell, never breaking eye contact, “what I meant was…” and Mitchell’s hips wriggle a little “I’m not a girl.”  He lets out a breath as he says it.

George’s fingers still, but he doesn’t take them away.

“Pretty sure I’ve got that one figured out.”

“You know what I mean.”

George smiles, somehow managing to find the words he struggled with before, “does it look like I care? Yeah, this sounds fucking weird, but I’m gonna say it anyway, I don’t think I’d be doing this with the female version of you….and…” George’s fingers have pushed into the top of Mitchell’s towel without him noticing, and he’s chosen that moment to tug it off from around his hips, “I want to know what it feels like to be with someone who feels what I feel.”

Mitchell wants to applaud George for saying the things that he can’t.  Instead he just stares, standing with this towel around his ankles and dripping water onto the floor.

He feels fingers brush his stomach, slipping lower and somehow gets his mouth working.

“Be my guest.”

And George doesn’t need a second invite.  He watches Mitchell’s face as he lets his fingers stroke over his hardening cock.  Mitchell’s eyes close for a second, and when he opens them again, George is smiling and curling his fingers around his cock.

George’s other hand is on Mitchell’s hip and he leans in to push his lips against his neck.

“Are you cold?” is muttered into Mitchell’s damp skin.  He combines that with a squeeze to his cock, and Mitchell wants to let out another noise he knows he’ll get shit for later.

“You kidding?”  Mitchell’s head goes against George’s shoulder and his eyes close as his hands move to his hips.  He thinks he feels George’s lips curl up in a smile as he registers his response.

“Shouldn’t take any risks…we should probably get you into bed.”

George’s hand is moving slowly and steadily up and down his length now, and Mitchell isn’t sure his legs will work well enough to make it that far.  Maybe George will carry him.  He’s only little, afterall.

George moves, his eyes on Mitchell and his fingers disengaging and moving to rest on his hip, “come on.”

Mitchell watches George lean down and collect this discarded towel, “if you’re good, I’ll rub you dry.”  His eyes waggle to accompany the suggestion, and somehow Mitchell finds his legs do work afterall.

George wanders out, not looking back and letting Mitchell find his way to their bedroom in his own time. 

Mitchell suddenly feels the self-consciousness he’d been holding in check some flooding to the surface. He’s naked and wet and George is waiting for him fully clothed, next to a bed they’re about to crawl into together.  He’s not too sure where to look or what to do with his hands.  Covering his still aroused cock would be a little too obvious.

He feels a towel hook around his neck, his attention scattered until George starts reeling him in like a fish and walking them backwards to one of their beds.

George stops and does his best to rub the towel over Mitchell’s back, moving it lower with each movement until he rests his hands on Mitchell’s arse and waits for Mitchell’s full attention.

“So…”

“Yeah…”

George’s expression breaks, “just imagine I’ve still got my hand on your cock.”

Mitchell grins, “would be easier to imagine if you did.”

George nods lightly towards the bed, “let’s lie down.”  George instantly feels a hand fist in the front of his shirt and his expression changes again as he’s held in place.

“No.”  Mitchell is looking up at George with a serious expression on his face, “fair’s fair.  This comes off.”  And he’s pulling up George’s shirt, letting George complete the rest of the job when he catches on, before pushing his fingers into the top of his pants and meeting George’s eyes, “and the rest.”

George smirks, “I like this new pushy side of you.”

Mitchell doesn’t say anything as he lets George push his pants and underwear off and is finally as naked as he is.  There’s a moment where some sort of stark realisation of what’s happening hits them both, and then George is reaching for Mitchell, letting the last of anything approaching an inhibition fly out the window as he pulls them flush together and waits for Mitchell to angle his head up for a kiss.

And Mitchell doesn’t need George’s hand on his cock again, because now he can feel all of George against him, and he’s warm and firm and very male.  It feels like some sort of missing piece has fallen into place, and now when Mitchell’s stomach swims he knows what it is and how he can get what he needs to settle it.  

George brings his hands down to squeeze at Mitchell’s arse as he deliberately rubs his hips forward to show Mitchell just how male he is.

And Mitchell groans as he feels his cock brush against George’s for the first time.  It really shouldn’t feel this good just to rub against someone, should it?  He lets his own hands press almost desperately into George’s back as he pushes himself upwards into George’s taller frame.

George’s breathing is ragged against Mitchell’s mouth as he comes up for air.  “Maybe if we - ” George motions towards the bed.

Mitchell doesn’t care at this point if they move too far from where they are, but he finds himself following George’s lead easily and seconds later, he’s on his side, George watching him with a small smile in place.

Mitchell’s about to say something but George beats him to it by pushing Mitchell onto his back so he can slide mostly on top of him.

“This is better.”

Mitchell nods, finding his hands back at the sides of George’s body and feeling George fit them together a little better, the pressure against his cock increasing as he does.

George’s face is once again pressed into Mitchell’s neck, but everything else is new.  Mitchell rubs this hand over George’s back, gliding it slowly lower and grabbing firmly at one of his arse cheeks as he feels George roll his hips against him.

“What do you want?”

It takes Mitchell several seconds to figure out George has asked him something, he’s so lost in the sensations running through him, and along with that, other things running through his head, that he figures he’ll be visiting again after his body is done with the physical side of things.

Mitchell wishes he’d been the one to ask.  He’s pretty sure he’s being asked how he wants to get off, but really, it could be about so many things.

“Just…”  Mitchell’s voice is rough, and he swallows, “like this…need to…” and his lip is sharply grabbed at by his teeth as George wriggles against him in a certain way, pushing them together so Mitchell can feel just what he’s doing to George and George can groan, low and needy, into his ear.

Mitchell lets his head fall back, his eyes closing as he feels George rub his cock alongside Mitchell’s.  He does his best to push up against George, increasing the pressure as he pulls George against him firmly.  Lips work at Mitchell’s neck as George’s movements grow in urgency.

Mitchell opens his eyes again, trying to focus on any parts of George he can recognise.  It almost appears like they’ve become a single writhing mass of body and he feels and watches his body move with George’s, the hard against the soft, the rough against the smooth.

George dips his head again, and the warmth of his breathing burns into Mitchell’s neck as he feels the change in his movements.  Mitchell meets the urgent rutting of George’s hips as he signals without words that he’s close to coming between them.  Mitchell isn’t sure if it’s a race he should try and win, and at the same time, he doesn’t want to lose the feeling of George’s cock, weeping and heavy against his own.

Mitchell feels his fingers slip between George cheeks, and doesn’t stop himself when his finger brushes over George’s hole for the first time, from going back for another pass.

“Fuck…yeah…” George’s pants of breath are taking effort now, and Mitchell just decides to go with what it feels like George wants.

He pushes his finger where George needs it and rubs, feeling George push back against him before he eases a fingertip inside him.

George’s hips work in a rhythm that pushes Mitchell deeper with little effort, and he works in a second finger, the elastic pressure drawing him in.  Mitchell can’t help but think about what else George might want them to do, and it sends a bolt of electricity to his cock, his fingers stabbing into George as he arches up into him, his control wrenched away in an instant.

George feels it easily.  His muscles tighten around Mitchell’s fingers as he feels his hips grind down against Mitchell and he shoots hard and wet between them, his guttural moan buried into Mitchell’s neck.

Mitchell feels George’s body push down into his, an instant before he coats Mitchell’s belly with cum.  The feeling of George moving on top of him, letting out a noise of deep pleasure into his ear, while spreading wet warmth over Mitchell’s body, has him mirroring George almost instantly.  Mitchell feels himself explode in hot bursts, adding to the mess already plastering their bodies together, at the same time as some sort of noise slides from his lips that he’s only barely aware of.  His head falls back again, and finally both bodies are still, apart from the movement of breath being drawn steadily in and out.

George doesn’t move.  Mitchell can feel the wet between them and the wet of George’s lips at his neck.  He grins, letting his fingers move upwards to gently trail over George’s back.

It’s minutes later before Mitchell breaks the peaceful silence, “I know you’re not asleep.”

He instantly feels the rumble against him of George’s soft chuckle, and George is slowly raising his head. “How?”

Mitchell twists his head so he can look at George, “two things. You never go to bed smelly, and you snore.”

“M’not smelly.”

Mitchell looks at George in amusement, “you will be if you don’t shower.”

George drops his head onto Mitchell’s shoulder and makes a snuffly noise that Mitchell would almost call cute if he wasn’t a bloke who never said things like that.

“M’sleepy.”

Mitchell can’t wipe the smile off his face, despite the fact that he kind of needs George to move and he kind of really does need to clean them both up, this moment is pretty much prefect.

“Ow!” instantly, George is rolling away and flopping onto his back, Mitchell’s fingers having found a sensitive spot, “what?” George’s eyes are wide as he turns his head.

“You weren’t moving.”

George’s eyebrows raise, “didn’t seem to mind having me on top of you a few minutes ago.

Mitchell can feel something approaching a blush coming on, “yeah…” he nods a little, “that was…” he leaves the rest unsaid, he can tell by the look George is returning him that George knows how exactly how that was, and he does something completely unexpected by reaching over and stroking his fingers down the side of Mitchell’s jaw, watching him carefully as he does.

“If you’re about to propose, I want a church wedding.”

George grins, seemingly not thrown off, “I was thinking pacific island paradise, but I guess we can sort those details out later.”

There’s another half a minute when both just watch eachother, confirming without words what’s evolving between them.

“Gonna get a towel.” Mitchell finally pipes up quietly, “don’t go anywhere.”

George just smiles, taking his hand away eventually, as Mitchell slips out of bed.

When he returns minutes later having cleaned himself off and collected a clean towel for George, he pauses in the doorway, his eyes falling on George’s relaxed form, his breathing even as he slips between wake and sleep.  He watches for a minute more before tossing the towel onto a chair and crawling back into the bed and pulling the sheets over them both.  George shifts, slipping out of his slumber long enough to curl against Mitchell and mumble something unintelligible into his shoulder.

Mitchell isn’t bothered at all that George is snoring gently minutes later, or that it takes him another half hour to drop off.  When he wakes in the morning George is still pressed against him, and he doesn’t mind that either.  He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of another body wash over him.  He reaches around George’s shoulders and gently slips his fingers into his long hair, grinning as George stirs.

 

END

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    


End file.
